Commander
by RoverGirl
Summary: One shot. Jeff's POV. Jeff has a great deal on his mind when it comes to his sons. References New Captain Scarlet.


Authors Note: I'm currently looking for a new beta reader, my apologies for errors. Please R&R.

It's been a year since I last dabbled with Thunderbirds fan fiction and this flash fic is my re-introduction into the fandom.

As a nod to the CGI Thunderbirds re-make in the works, I'm aligning any future Thunderbirds stories with Gerry Anderson's New Captain Scarlet. This story features a slight crossover mention of a young Captain Scarlet (Paul Metcalfe) and his father (Tom Metcalfe).

* * *

He has always been protective of his brothers, ever since he was little.

It's natural I guess, siblings bond to each other, they become each others best friends, their first source of comfort, their greatest rivals and partners in crime.

But Scott?

I think he was forced into the commander role ever since their mother died.

I've always wanted to believe that all of them were too young to understand the pain of losing her, so they didn't carry that emotional burden. And for the most part they haven't; Gordon and Alan in particular. Alan was only a baby when it happened. Gordon was only two.

But John, Virgil and Scott, it's different.

John and Virgil both knew, I remember how quiet they used to be, but it's Virgil who stands out most in my mind.

I regret doing what I did to Virgil as a child but he was the one who reminded me of her the most.

They were so kindred.

Virgil got most of his traits from Lucille, there's no doubt about it.

His gentle nature, his love of art and music, his bravery; those were the traits that made Lucille tick.

Even in his facial features I can see Lucille, especially now.

All he's missing is the blonde hair and blue eyes, well Alan and John got those features and Scott got those beautiful blue eyes.

But it was Virgil who reminded me of her the most in his nature and so it was him I turned more of a blind eye to in those troubling times.

Thank God I had Scott around to look after him, to look after all of them.

Of course I love my boys but there's no doubt in my mind that I passed my burden onto Scott. The first born child dealing with the father's mistakes, making them right when they had been wrong.

Scott grew up a long time ago, well beyond his years and yet despite everything he never complained once.

He just got on with it like a brave soldier, never once questioning a command or lack of command as it was.

He knew...and one day we talked about it.

I think Scott was sixteen years old.

I had a day off and spent it with him whilst his brothers were at camp or something or maybe round their friends houses I don't know, but Scott didn't seem too fussed where they were so I know they were somewhere safe.

I took him for a tour around one of the shuttles, met up with Tom Metcalfe, first man on Mars, and his son, Paul.

Paul and Scott used to be great friends, always hanging out together. Paul was like a sixth son in many ways.

Well Tom got called away for some briefing of some type and took Paul with him, leaving me and Scott in the cockpit of a shuttle for an overdue father/son catch up.

I'll never forget what he said.

Never had I known a boy so grown up and from that point on I knew my eldest wasn't a boy no more.

He was a man in his own rights.

Scott didn't blame me at all. Only told me the truth. How he coped, how he managed, how he read between the lines.

And I'll never forgive myself when he said "She was our a mother but she was your wife, your soul-mate, and you lost her. She was the one person in this world who would always make you smile, even when you had a really horrible day, even if you just thought of her or saw her photo or I called for her, you would smile. She was the sun in your solar system and when she went out, you went out to...I'd probably have reacted the same way if I'd been in your place. Losing someone like that. It robs you of all the joy in the world and everything that reminded you of her only made your bad day worse. That's why I did it, Father. That's why I looked out everyone. That's why I cooked your meals and tidied up and kept everyone else out of your way with their problems. Because you didn't have a solution to your problems, because there was no light to guide you. I understand it a little and I taught that to my brothers."

What sort of father was I back then when she died?

I threw myself into my work without much regard to my boys, only that Scott would deal with it because he always dealt with it and he had taught his brothers not to pester me back then.

Of course following the years of her death things got better. I even dated again on occasion but it wasn't the same. It wouldn't bring back the boys' mother.

And most of the women I dated weren't interested in bringing up five lively boys, that and Scott would probably have been at loggerheads with them.

I remember that Scott was eleven when the incident that changed everything happened.

I came back stinking drunk after a bad day; what a great example to set an impressionable eleven year old.

Alan was three years old and it was the anniversary of Lucille's death.

And Scott?

He heard me return, peaked his head round the door to my study and saw me down a bottle of neat scotch, a present off of some colonel or other.

I remember the look of fear in his eyes.

Those blue sparkling eyes.

Lucille's eyes.

My oldest son was afraid of his brothers being orphaned.

I passed out after that to wake up lying on my side on the red leather couch in the study, Scott lightly dozing in an armchair across the way from me.

When I woke up, he woke up also and his eyes told me everything.

He was concerned, worried, afraid, alert and embarrassed.

And outside the door I could hear Gordon pining for Scott, asking for his breakfast.

And that's exactly what Scott went and did, making sure my own flesh and blood never saw me as he left the room and he went about his duties.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't have to.

It was clear that my second youngest son didn't know or particularly care for who I was or how I was.

I'd become alienated from him and that meant the same applied to the rest of them.

That day I vowed things would be different.

I would look after my young family.

And I did make changes; I made time for my boys.

I started tucking them in at night, reading them stories, making models with them, having meals with them and dropping them off at school and kindergarten, taking them to sleepovers and friends parties, taking them to the beach and to theme parks and the likes, and if I couldn't I ensured someone else could.

The responsibility stopped being Scott's alone after that night and things changed for the better.

I became their father but Scott would always be their role model and icon.

It was always Scott they would turn to first to chase away their monsters, help with their homework, tend to their injuries and honestly I wouldn't change a thing regarding that.

Every child needs a hero and they had Scott.

Nowadays the world has International Rescue.

My five boys are icons of the world, standing for the right things in life.

They are supermen flying high and diving deep in incredible machines.

I wasn't a great Dad to them during that rough patch but I picked myself up and did the best I could.

I'm their father and they're my sons, I love them and I'd do anything for them and vice versa.

I was blessed with my boys and I bet Lucille wherever she may be is proud of them also.

No matter what petty arguments the boys may have, those always get put aside when they're on a mission or one of them is in danger.

Like now.

I heard from Brains that Scott and Alan had had a disagreement this morning.

It had led to a few choice words being thrown to and fro.

And then they were called out a skyscraper demolition gone wrong in Australia which had caused damage to and destabilised several other buildings, trapping various workers.

Thunderbirds 1 and 2 launched; Scott, Virgil, Alan, Gordon and Brains all went to the danger zone and Alan got hurt.

Scott must have been dreading that call in to tell me what had happened.

To say that our youngest had been caught in a gas explosion. Of course I was concerned and worried. Yes there is always the risk of injury whenever the boys go out but you are never prepared for it, even if it's just a few cuts and bruises.

Despite Scott's assurances that Alan was for the most part okay and had regained consciousness briefly and my knowledge of the fully equipped medical bay Thunderbird 2 possessed and of all their extensive first aid and medical training, it still bothered me as a parent and operations commander.

The hours ticked by until finally Scott called in to confirm they were heading back to base.

From the sound of Scott's voice, I knew that people had lost their lives.

But that was the nature of the rescues.

Sometimes you saved everyone and other times you couldn't.

But at least by doing something some had been saved from a situation they would ordinarily have perished in.

It was why I set up International Rescue, to save lives in situations like that.

And now here I stand beside my youngest son's sick bed, my oldest sat down next to him on guard duty, waiting for him to recover, waiting for the protests of wanting to get up, to get mobile, to avoid being the butt of everyone's jokes for the next two weeks.

Brains, Tin Tin and Grandma have been and gone.

Virgil and Brains were busy solving an electrical fault aboard Thunderbird 2 whereas Gordon had been sent to bed with a firm order when it became apparent that he desperately needed to sleep.

International Rescue was now a man down so Gordon needed to rest and recuperate encase of another call.

The clock on the bedside table chimed midnight.

Was it really the start of a new day?

It doesn't feel like it and that's because the mission is not over.

The mission won't be over until Alan is back on his feet and only then would Scott step down from red alert and return to being laid back and daring to nab cake from under Grandma's nose.

That's when peace would resume for my boys and they'll be back at their normal antics once more.

But until then, we wait, we pray and we hope for the best.

Deep down both Scott and I know Alan is tough and resilient but somewhere deep down even further there's always that fear that needs repressing, always that guilt that tries to sneak up, always the desire to blame ourselves for what happened to Alan when there was nothing we could've done. That hope that the light doesn't go out leaving us in the darkness.

In many ways me and Scott are so alike; clear-headed and determined leaders, both with decorated military careers.

Like Virgil is to Lucille, Scott is to me.

The result of being the oldest perhaps and having their command at such a young age.

While I've never really opened up about those early years to my boys minus Scott, I've always expressed my pride even if we've not always seen eye to eye.

I've always done my best to be there for them when they're injured and hurt, afterall each one of them has gone on to do something incredible for their lives and continues to do so.

They pilot some of the finest machines in the world and go out of their way to rescue complete strangers.

I can't ask any higher of them...Alan has started to wake up.

Between them, Scott, Brains and Tin Tin moved him to the sick room, cleaned him up, treated the visible multitude of bruises and cuts and got him changed out of his torn and dirty uniform into clean sleepwear and according to what Scott told me he looks a lot better than he did.

As soon as I saw Alan I knew he'd be okay, it's not as bad as some of the previous injuries he's endured in the past but still I can't rest until I've spoken to him.

And this time Lady Luck is on our side as he gets past that groggy first stage and opens his eyes wide, trying to focus on his surroundings.

Leaning in slightly to enter his field of vision, I watch as his pupils contract and attempt to clarify what he's seeing.

"Hello, Alan."

"Dad?"

The response is immediate, sounding slightly unsure.

His eyelids close, hiding those sparkling blue eyes briefly.

After blinking a couple more times he is able to focus better and mentally connects the dots to solve his confusion.

"How you feeling, Son?"

"Did we save them?" he asks and I can't help but smile.

"Sure did, you did a great job. Now you need to rest up. You took quite a beating."

It's for the best I don't tell him now that others has perished. Others outside of his control or capacity.

"And the guys?"

"We're all okay, Alan. Just waiting for you to finish your beauty sleep," Scott pips up and Alan's attention falls on him.

"S-sorry about this morning," Alan mutters, almost embarrassed.

It amazes me just how young he sounds as Scott smiles in relief and amusement.

"Don't worry about it, Kid. It was nothing, main thing now is for you to recover and stop Gordon before he goes too far with his practical jokes. I heard he's got something planned for Thunderbird 3, something involving bright pink paint," Scott warns him and I'm not sure if Scott's saying that as encouragement for Alan or if he's actually telling the truth.

"He wouldn't dare," Alan replied.

"Oh wouldn't he?" Scott challenges.

Well that's life on Tracy Island.

"Okay, that's enough, both of you. Alan, rest up and we'll speak later when you're feeling better. Scott, go get some sleep."

"Yes, Sir."

Their replies are in unison and Alan gradually drifts back to an easy dreamless sleep leaving me with the task of shooing Scott to bed.

"He'll be okay now, Scott," I assure him, placing a hand on his right shoulder.

"Yes, Father. But I had to remain with him to be sure. He did take quite a blow."

"Brains checked him over in Thunderbird 2, did he not?"

"Yes, Father. But you can never be too careful, you know that."

"I know, Son. I know. But you can relax now."

"FAB, good night, Dad." he replies, standing up and with final look at Alan heads out of his brother's room.

"Good night, Scott. Pleasant dreams."

And with that, my shift starts.

END OF TRANSMISSION.


End file.
